


A Quick Kiss, While Running Late

by Morgan_Elektra



Series: 1000 Kisses [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Boyfriends, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Flash Fic, Grimmauld Place, M/M, Morning Kisses, POV Harry Potter, Present Tense, Rain, Sexual References, Underwear, Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Vignette, running late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgan_Elektra/pseuds/Morgan_Elektra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is made up of millions of moments. Relationships are made up of thousands of kisses. Each one is its own story.</p><p>Harry is running late and he can't find his shoes. Draco's idea of help is more like distraction.</p><p>NOTE: This piece of flash fiction was previously posted on my Tumblr page (<a href="https://deliciouslystickypersona.tumblr.com/">@deliciouslystickypersona</a>) but this is the first time it's appeared on AO3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Quick Kiss, While Running Late

**Author's Note:**

> This series will be an on-going one, consisting of shortish vignettes of Harry and Draco's relationship, all centered around a kiss. Some happy. Some sad. Some momentous. Some fleeting. In no particular order. I like to imagine Harry and Draco sitting together somewhere and recounting (and re-counting) their kisses... all while I gleefully record them. Think of the numbers as the order they're recalled in by them, but I'm relating them as I choose.
> 
> The ultimate goal is to write all 1000... but I don't know how long that will take! (I am going to *try* to post once a week, but I can't guarantee anything.)
> 
> BUT MORGAN, you say, THIS ONE DOESN'T HAVE A NUMBER! And you are absolutely right. It doesn't. Because I've decided that anything that falls into flash fiction or drabble word count territory (1k ish words or less) will just be deemed a 'Quick Kiss'. No numbers. They will still be part of the same universe.
> 
> Inspired by the poem 'Out of Catullus' by Richard Crashaw (which is essentially a translation of Catullus 5)
> 
>  
> 
> Come and let us live my Deare,  
> Let us love and never feare,  
> What the sowrest Fathers say:  
> Brightest Sol that dies to day  
> Lives againe as blithe to morrow,  
> But if we darke sons of sorrow  
> Set; o then, how long a Night  
> Shuts the Eyes of our short light!  
> Then let amorous kisses dwell  
> On our lips, begin and tell  
> A Thousand, and a Hundred, score  
> An Hundred, and a Thousand more,  
> Till another Thousand smother  
> That, and that wipe of another.  
> Thus at last when we have numbred  
> Many a Thousand, many a Hundred;  
> Wee’l confound the reckoning quite,  
> And lose our selves in wild delight:  
> While our joyes so multiply,  
> As shall mocke the envious eye.

 

✨

 

Harry fishes beneath the sofa for his missing shoe, but encounters only a pair of Draco’s silk pants. The green striped ones that make his arse look especially fantastic.

 

Which is, of course, how they ended up under the couch in the living room.

 

He holds them up, a smile curling his lips as he remembers stripping them off to reveal the smooth, pink curve of Draco’s cock, glistening in the light of the fire. But as pleasant as the memory of peeling the silk down Draco’s pale thighs is (which is extremely), it’s gone half nine already and Harry is  _ late _ . He pushes to his socked feet, pants in one hand. The other still holds the last corner of his toast. Harry shoves it into his mouth and brushes the crumbs off the blue jumper Draco handed him this morning.

 

A quick glance out the window reveals bad news–it’s begun to pour.

 

“Bloody—Draco, have you seen my other shoe?”

 

Draco leans against the doorframe, long fingers wrapped around his mug of tea. He quirks a single blond brow at Harry’s question.

 

“Do you mean the one there?”

 

Harry follows the tilt of his boyfriend’s head to see his left shoe resting upside down on top of what Draco refers to as ‘an occasional table’. His cheeks heat as he hurries to pluck it up and toss it next to its mate (which he found lying on its side halfway up the stairs).

 

“Well, what d’you expect when you owl me with a message that says, ‘ _ Upstairs. Naked. Waiting. _ ’?”

 

He toes on his shoes and glares at Draco, who doesn’t look the least bit repentant. In fact, his lips are twisted in a pleased smirk.

 

“I expected  _ exactly _ what I got, Potter. Which is why I sent the note.”

 

Harry crosses the space between them in two strides. He curls his hand around the back of Draco’s neck and pulls him down to meet his mouth. Draco tastes of mint and milky tea. His tongue is slippery and quick against Harry’s. Harry nips Draco’s full lower lip, then sucks away the hurt.

 

“Know me so well, do you?” he asks with a rasp in his voice.

 

Draco chuckles, a delicate pink flush staining his throat and cheeks.

 

“I do.” He hooks a finger through one of Harry’s belt loops. “I know you sleep restlessly on stormy nights, and how you take your tea.” He brushes a kiss against Harry’s jaw and murmurs in his ear. “I know you want to take me back upstairs right now and have a repeat of last night.”

 

Harry groans as Draco’s teeth bite gently on his earlobe, tugging. Draco’s mouth skims his throat, sucking at the tender spot just above his shirt collar. He pulls back abruptly and smacks a close-mouthed kiss on Harry’s startled lips.

 

“And I know you’re going to be late for work if you don’t leave now.”

 

With a flick of his wrist, he casts a quick Tempus. When Harry sees the time, he curses.

 

“Bollocks.”

 

Draco chuckles, lowering his hand to cup Harry’s through his trousers. “Later.”

 

“Sadist.” 

 

Draco doesn’t argue the charge. Harry presses another brief kiss on Draco’s mouth and pulls away. He adjusts himself into a more comfortable position, ignoring Draco’s smirk.

 

“Right. Work. Aurors. Crimes.” He runs a hand through his unruly hair, pats his pocket to make sure his wand is where it should be. Draco’s lips twitch.

 

“Go save the world, Potter. But maybe leave my underthings?”

 

Harry blinks down at the pair of striped silk pants he still holds. Then he stuffs them into his pocket with a grin.

 

“Good luck charm. Ta!”

 

Harry ignores whatever (no doubt unflattering) things Draco calls after him. He practically skips out the front door. Not even the rain is enough to wash the smile off his face.


End file.
